


Collegiate Swamp Cartography

by LaughingStones



Series: Collegiate Navigation [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Characters of color, Cronus may be worse than canon here, Disclaimer - this has almost nothing to do with swamps, Gamzee has a bad knee, Gamzee is a freshman and therefore vulnerable, Humanstuck, Hurt/Comfort, I wish this had come out warm-and-fuzzy-er, It depends on your analysis, It's bad news for anyone vulnerable, M/M, POV Second Person, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Podfic Available, Rape/Non-con Elements, Roxy is awesome even in a bit part, Take canon-typical Cronus and set him loose on a college campus, mixing opiates with marijuana, pale gamkar, plenty of people have bit parts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-03-08 08:13:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3202040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaughingStones/pseuds/LaughingStones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gamzee goes to a party, runs into a good-looking senior, and finds himself in a mess.  Fortunately this short, shouty guy gets him out of it and talks him through the hard stuff.</p><p> <br/>This is a story dealing with sexual assault and its aftermath.  There's a lot more aftermath than assault, since I like my hurt/comfort heavy on the comfort, but if you have triggers or trauma, please be careful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Collegiate Swamp Cartography

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Splickedylit](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Splickedylit).
  * Inspired by [The Best Years Of Your Life](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1807909) by [BirchBow (chaoticTenebrism)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaoticTenebrism/pseuds/BirchBow). 



> Thanks to both my betas, Rhea314 and Sabaku_no_gaara_ai! My beloved cousin Rhea314 has now made podfic for this, to my startled delight!

Your knee's been hurting kinda bad today, so you've been watching the clock, taking your new pain meds as close together as your doc says you can, and class made even less sense than usual thanks to all that. You can't exactly stop and smoke up out on the common, so it's after dinner by the time you finally get a chance to partake in your usual miracles, even though you know how much it'd help with the pain. Your doc knows you well enough that she didn't try too hard to get you not to smoke, except for when you were testing out the dosage. She said the miracle weed could even make the drugs work better, but it could also have some worse effects, and she had all her strict on when she told you to quit smoking and call her if it did anything bad.

So after dinner you get back to your room, which is empty, your roomie's out somewhere, and you light up and after a bit the world is a softer and friendlier place. Tucking the rest of the stuff in your hoodie pocket, you wander out, and you're not even limping, you're feeling no pain. It's a goddamn miracle all in this magic green stuff.

You head to the common room to see if anyone's left snacks out, cuz you could murder some chips or something. Jake is there, and as happy to see you as always. He seems to up and like everyone, though - dude's the chillest senior you've ever met.

"Makara, my good chum!" he says. He's got kinda a funny way of talking, but the same's been said of you, and a brother's gotta do what's all in him to do.

"Hey, bro," you say, after a hazy space where you thought you'd already said it.

"On this gentle Friday eve, have you already made any felicitous plans?"

You have to think about that one. "Nope," you say eventually.

"Jolly good! I'm trying to pull together a crew of merrymakers to attend a shindig across campus that's supposed to be utterly smashing! Would you care to join us? I believe one or another of the Striders has condescended to DJ."

The grin spreads itself across your face. College is so fucking different from high school! This totally cool dude is up and inviting you to a sweetass party and you're just a freshman, this is so fucking awesome! "Yeah, brother, sure would!"

Eventually the folks he's got hold of wander across campus in a group, talking and laughing. Vriska's coming along with Eridan, John and Roxy, Jake leading the way and you sort of floating along behind. You ain't even noticing you _got_ knees, there's no pain at all, and you are pretty fucking mellow.

When you get to the party house, the whole place is lit up and humming, the music's going and it's live-action in there. People are dancing in the clear space at the center of the room, packed tight around the edges, grooving together, watching each other bright-eyed and hungry. Everybody's got a drink, and Vriska tries to shove a beer on you right away, but you just give her an easy smile and shake your head. Your doc was clear with you: do not drink while on painkillers or you will up and _die_ , motherfucker. Well, she didn't say it exactly like that, but you heard it anyway. Since you ain't really much for alcohol anyway, it's no hardship - your dad let you try it a time or two, but you're pretty clear all your miracles are up and waiting in smoke, not in a bottle.

The sister don't wanna drop it, calls you a dope and "so booooooooring, have a little fun, jeez!" By then you've sort of lost track what she was talking at you about, and she goes "tsk!" and slips away into the crowd.

You hang at the edges of the room, munching on handfuls of chips and watching the dancing. An Asian chick from your Art History class comes up and talks at you a minute, seems friendly and all, even if she is a little fond of her puns, so you smile and nod along and try to track what she's after saying. It ain't easy; you keep losing the thread somehow, and it's no help that the music's pounding in your ears and everybody's yelling to get heard over it. Then she spots a friend she was waiting for and goes all bouncing and squeaking on her toes, says a hasty word to you and she's gone.

After a while you realize the sweet haze is wearing through, you've been here that long already. You can tell you have knees again and even if it don't hurt yet, that is nothing you want to encourage. Maybe if you slide out the back door, you can get another miracle in and stick around this motherfucking hellacious wondertime a little longer.

Out in the hall, it's way quieter. You're headed for where you figure the back door should be when a figure lounging in a doorway steps into your way.

"Hey, sweet thing, leaving already? What's wrong, is this party not hot enough for a guy of your caliber?" He's tall, white, good-looking like a model, with something to his face that reminds you of somebody, though who slips away when you reach for it. A cigarette dangles from his lips, but you guess you distracted him before he could light it.

"Nah, man, just gonna step out for a smoke," you explain. _Eridan_ , he looks a ton like Eridan, but his hair is slicked back a lot smoother than Eridan's and without the purple streak. Hey, don't Eridan got a big brother who's a senior?

"Hey, guy, no need to go out in the cold, my room's always open to charming and attractive people, or I guess, people with interesting coloring, anyway. What do you use on your hair?" He steps to the side, waves to the open door, but you hesitate.

"What, the dreads? They ain't that hard to do - ”

"Wow, you're a little slow, huh? That's okay, it's cute, really. No, the color. I see plenty of black girls with dyed red hair, but never seen a black ginger fella before. Darker reds generally work better, you might want to rethink that next time you get it done, or, do it yourself I suppose - are you coming in or what?"

You blink at him. Actually, right now you would kinda like to sit down instead of standing on the stoop outside, it's just - “You wouldn't report a brother or nothing for having a bowl of some miracle leaf, would you?"

He grins at you. "Aww, no need to worry, my man, the Ampora-Vantas lodge is a safe place for all discriminated-against substances. Frosh, man, they're so nervous. Come on, get in here."

This time you obey his gesture and step in. There are strings of Christmas lights up, which is motherfucking awesome; you don't know why the fuck that miraculous shit is illegal at this school. Dude in the desk chair across the room glances at you and goes right back to talking to the skinny chick sitting awkwardly on the bed nearby.

"I'm Cronus Ampora," Eridan's bro says, following you in and closing the door. "You've probably heard of me, I'm sort of a big deal in the music department. Here, sit down." He picks up a tangle of clothes off the other bed and drops it on the second desk, flops down on the bed and pats the spot right next to him. You sit down not quite that close, you'd almost be on his lap right there, but near enough to be friendly.

Then you're distracted fishing out your pipe and bag and lighter, so you forget to mention that you've heard a lot about the Striders, and even Rose, who's apparently damn good on a violin, but nothing about a Cronus Ampora. He talks all the while you're lighting up and breathing in all those sweet, soothing miracles, but you don't mind. Brother's gotta do what's in his heart to do, so if he wants to talk, let him talk.

Unlit cigarette in his fingers, he gestures to emphasize something he's saying, puts a hand on your thigh, like, to make sure he's got your attention, you guess, so you nod and he smiles. The hand stays there, though. At some point during the monologue he moved closer, and his hand's just resting casually on your thigh, stroking back and forth just a little. That seems...kind of weird, maybe, but you're getting nice and hazy again from all these smoky miracles. Maybe it's the miracles combined with the drugs, actually, because this is way more dazed than you ever feel from just the leaf. Shit's fucking amazing, but also sort of confusing, so maybe this dude is being totally normal and you're the weird one.

Across the room, someone clears his throat and you look over to see the other dude standing up. "Natalia, I believe this would be an opportune time to carry our discussion elsewhere. Perhaps you would like to join me in a brisk walk across campus? There is a small meeting of like-minded folk whose elaboration I believe you would find most enlightening."

She gets up and follows him out, but before the door closes with a _clunk_ of the lock catching you hear, "Um, actually, I mean the party's still going - ”

Cronus laughs as the rest of her comment is cut off. "Awesome. Vantas is a cool cat, but he's a major roadblock when it comes to having a goddamn personal life. I mean, I get it, it's only natural to be jealous when he's completely fucking hopeless and I'm - well. I mean look at me. Check it out, that was his best attempt and he won't even pull off a one-night-stand. Not that she'd be much of a catch, but that is the sort of limitation he's working with. But hey, for once he caught a hint."

It seems likely that you missed something, because you're not really following, but hey, it's all good, right? You set your pipe aside and sort of sprawl back across the bed, head and shoulders propped up against the wall so the room will stop swaying like that. Everything feels pretty damn good.

"Yeah, you just relax, fella," Cronus says. "Damn, you are seriously out of it, huh? That's okay, don't worry about it. I'll take care of you." His hand strokes back and forth, back and forth on your thigh, moves down to your knee and you twitch instinctively. "Whoa, you ticklish or something?" He squeezes as you open your mouth to explain and you make a noise as your leg jerks away all by itself. It didn't actually hurt because miracles, but your skin prickles anyway, anticipating the pain.

"What the fuck, guy?" Cronus looks annoyed.

"Sorry, bro, 's just, 's my bad knee. It don't like to get touched too much."

"Oh, all right, that's fine. Makes it a little difficult, but I can keep you off your knees," he says, laughing, and you missed the joke but you smile anyway because smiling and laughing is awesome. "For a moment there I thought you were getting all awkward on me, just when we were getting to know each other. Frosh do that sometimes, but you're cooler than that. No need to be awkward, right? We're just having a good time here, like you do at parties."

"Yeah, bro," you say easily, admiring the glow of the Christmas lights. "Having a motherfucking bitchtits time."

"Well, a little short on the tits aspect of that," he laughs, "but you can make it up to me." He leans back on one elbow and his other hand slides up your thigh now, and - whoa! Okay, that kinda startled you, how he's tracing the crease of your thigh up to the hip and back, people don't really... do that, much? The purple cargo pants you're wearing are worn soft and thin, you feel it more than you would through denim.

"Yeah, you're not the type to get all jumpy over nothing. You know when to chill out and enjoy yourself. Yeah?"

"Y-yeah, bro." He keeps, his hand keeps moving, up over your hip, sliding under the hem of your hoodie and running along the skin just above the waist of your pants. His fingers are cool. Now they're dipping under the waistband, sliding down to the hollow of your hip where the skin is thin and soft, and you are starting to feel really motherfucking weird about all this.

"Hey, um. Hey, bro - ”

"Now, frosh." He gives you a stern look, but you don't notice because you just realized you never even gave the brother your name.

"Hell, bro, I'm sorry, it's Gamzee. Good to meet you, motherfucker."

"Yeah, all right, Gamzee. You're a cool cat, right? A little funny-looking, but a nice guy like me can help you out anyway. I mean, admit it, a freshman like you is not going to get much tail around here, not with so many sexy fuckers like me in first. But here I am, giving you a free ride out of the goodness of my heart, and all you have to do is not fuck it up by being an ungrateful little shit. You think you can do that?"

Your mouth is open to answer, although you don't know what to say, but he moves his hand back to your waistband and pops the button and you end up making a sort of gasping noise instead. The zipper goes down and his hand is on you, thumb stroking up and down through your boxers. You're shivering, breath catching in your throat as goosebumps prickle across your skin. What's even fucking happening?

"We're going to have a damn good time, you and me. I know you're glad you agreed to this, and you're probably wondering how you can possibly pay me back. Well, don't worry. I'm a groovy guy, so I'll give you a chance in just a minute here."

Another little noise comes out your mouth as his hand slips through the slit of your boxers and wraps around you, and your whole body jerks. _Fuck_ , that feels... good, partly, you think, at least it sure don't hurt and you're breathing hard, your hips are twitching, but you also think you don't really like it? You don't remember when you agreed to this, but everything's so hazy you can't be sure. If you did agree, can you maybe change your mind?

"Wait, bro, don't- ”

"Gamzee," he says, reproving. "Don't lie to me." His hand shifts and suddenly you're out in the open, half-hard and flushed a dark ruddy brown. Your face goes hot. "Does this look like you want me to stop? I don't think so." He glances down and pauses for a second. "Huh. The hair's natural? Well, that makes sense, I guess even your type wouldn't choose a combo that weird. You should probably dye it copper or auburn, that'd look, well, better than ginger, anyway." He pulls his hand away and you gasp for breath, muscles going limp that you hadn't even realized were taut. Hand goes up to his mouth, he licks his palm and fingers, then wraps them around you again and _fuck_.

"No, man, you don't gotta, fuck, please," you're babbling, one hand on his chest trying to push him away. You've got no leverage and he's older than you, more solid in the chest and shoulders; he don't budge.

"Gamzee!" he snaps, and now he sounds mad. He glares at you like you're just the stupidest fucker he's ever met, and then his expression softens and goes understanding. "Look, you're just a frosh, so I'll take it easy on you even if you're pretty thick-headed, but you have to get the full picture here. If you want to make it anywhere in life, you've got to try to get along with people." His hand pumps you once, twice, and you moan and twitch. Blood pounds in your ears, almost but not quite drowning him out as he keeps talking. "You can't just shove away overtures of friendship," you hear, "you have to try to be friendly and go with the flow, or you'll end up that weirdo outcast, alone in the corner with a blank smile and no one in your whole damn life to give a fuck about you. And you'll have done it to yourself."

Your heart feels like a shard of ice caught under your ribs. "No," you whisper, "no, man, I'm not, not shoving anybody, I'm not - ” You quickly take your hand off his chest, realizing that you kind of were. Fuck, you don't wanna be back in high school again, not ever, everybody said college would be different, you're so sick of being that one loser nobody likes.

"Good," Cronus says soothingly, "that's good. So, you want to maybe do something more useful with that hand?" His hand is still idly moving on you. You're completely hard now and your breath is shuddering in and out, your thighs are twitching with every stroke. You wish he would stop and you don't know what to do, because he's obviously just trying to do something nice for you, and you don't wanna end up with no friends -

Cronus pauses, head going up as a set of stompy footsteps coming down the hall outside stop in front of the door. A key rattles in the lock and he takes his hand off you, wipes it on his jeans. "Remember, you agreed to this," he says to you, quiet, and then louder as the door opens, "For fuck's sake, Kankri, we agreed you would - what the - ”

Shit, you're just lying here with your dick out in front of his roomie! You flounder to sit up enough to tuck it back in, do up your pants, and then you're just sort of hunched over panting, feeling dizzy and weird.

"Ampora, you sick fuck, what the dick-blistering shit do you think you're doing here?"

Whoa, his roomie sounds way different than he did before! You stare at him and feel even dizzier for a minute, because he's changed clothes and his black hair is totally different, tousled and wild instead of sleek, but he's got the same build and height and light brown skin. Same face, but scowling instead of snooty, and the same voice about four times as loud, and what the fuck?

"Well, well, if it isn't the shrieking hysteric." Cronus' voice sounds different, sort of smooth and pointed. "Here to flail pointlessly around until he's embarrassed everyone in the area. I really don't have time to deal with your personal problems right now, Vantas. Why don't you go find someone else to whine at?"

Vantas, that's the other guy's name. Is this him, did you up and misremember what he looks like, sounds like?

The dude glowers at Cronus, hands in fists. "Like fuck I will, shit-licker! What in the name of holy fuck is your scrofulous, disease-ridden carcass doing in the vicinity of an innocent frosh? Haven't they posted warning signs yet about getting within ten feet of you - "

"Just because you can't get laid doesn't mean the rest of us can't," Cronus cuts in. He leans forward and his voice goes hard. "Now get out, you're throwing off my groove."

Vantas plants his feet. Fuck, the air's all charged up in here, feels fit to explode. "Good! Watch me pitch your sick _groove_ screaming into the farthest, coldest depths of interstellar space, until little frozen pieces of selfish manipulation are breaking off and drifting into their most familiar alignment to spell out 'No means yes, and so does Stop, Don't touch me, and Leave me alone'!"

"You know, there's a reason everyone mocks you behind your back," Cronus says casually, eyes half-lidded. "It's hard to respect a guy who's such a pointless waste of breath that even he knows it, but he still can't shut up long enough to let anyone else enjoy life. Listening to you talk is like watching a developmentally challenged kid flopping around in his own spittle. It's pathetic, the way you scrabble for attention, shove your way into other people's business just so you can feel important for a minute."

Vantas' shoulders hunch the more Cronus talks, but his voice is loud and scornful when he gets his answer on. "Yeah, you soulless narcissist? Damn, it's good to know you don't like me; it's like the best sign that I still have some value as a human being and a morally worthy entity! When you start telling me how great I am, that's when I'll know I've crossed the moral event horizon and I have to find a bomb and take us both out at once for the fucking betterment of humanity."

"It's also pretty pathetic the way you still hold a grudge," Cronus sighs like he's bored. "So I hurt your delicate little feelings when I broke up with you. You've got to stop being so dramatic and oversensitive, guy - ”

"Ahahaha, no," Vantas snarls, "you don't get to rewrite history this time, asshole, _I_ broke up with _you_. And you want to talk about holding a grudge, who was the one that left fucking anonymous notes in my box the rest of the term? Goddamn psycho - ”

"Got anything to back up these baseless accusations, Vantas? I didn't think so. No more than you could back up a single word that ever spewed from your socially incompetent mouth."

"Oh, let's talk about baseless words, dickprince - ”

Holy shit, this is some motherfucking situation you're in. It's not like you're a fan of conflict in the first place, and being stuck in the middle of two brothers flinging forth the relationship woes, pitching them like they're weaponized - well, you're starting to feel perforated already.

"H-hey, bro," you say, catching Vantas' eye when he pauses for a breath in the midst of a stream of swearing. "You got something on your mind, or just drop by to kick the wicked shit with a brother here?"

"My brother's not - oh. Shit, right." Vantas takes a breath and frowns at you. "You're Gamzee, right?"

"Yeah, brother, that's me."

"John's worried about you, so I agreed to look around for you and my dumbass twin mentioned that he had the staggering stupidity to leave you alone with Mr. Liquor's Quicker here." Oh thank fuck, he's twins! They're twins, whatever, you're not confused that bad that you're hallucinating yet! Damn, you were starting in on some serious anxiety for a bit there.

Vantas crosses his arms. "So, were you actually looking for sex when you joined Scumball McDoucheLord, or was that his fucking idea? Like I don't already know."

"Of course he was looking for - ” Cronus starts, and Vantas cuts him off.

"I wasn't asking you, dickhead!"

“ - groundless allegations of nonconsensual behavior are wearing - ”

"Groundless my fucking - you pile of shit, you just keep - ”

"Oh shiiipt," slurs a new voice from the open door, and you look over to see Roxy, pale face flushed, weird eyes bright. "F'got da big bag ex lived on this floor. Sorry, Karkit. Kat. Kitkat, heheh."

The guy's stopped yelling, looking over at her kinda confused or torn or something, you don't quite get the look on his face before it goes to determination and he looks back at you. Cronus is still going on, like yelling over him is the only way to stop him talking, maybe, but Vantas just talks under him to you.

"You wanna be somewhere else?"

You really, really do. "Yeah? S-sure, man. Um. John was getting his worry on for me?"

"Yeah, and he'll be happy to see you haven't fallen over or fainted or something, so come the fuck on already."

"Don't be ridiculous," Cronus says, putting a hand on your knee, and you freeze. "We were having an excellent time before you stuck your jealous, obsessive nose in here, weren't we, Gamzee?" He squeezes just a little and it don't hurt yet but it should, and you flinch and nod.

"Get your fucking hand off him, you sick bastard," Vantas snarls.

"Whoops!" Roxy says from the door. "Fuckin shell phones, they jusst... go off like that, call Secur'ty fer _no_ reason atall. Wha'm I s’posed to say?" She looks at her smart phone, looks up at Cronus, smiles, and for a drunk chick in a pink skirt she looks kinda scary.

Cronus takes his hand off your knee and leans back, looking casual, but you're pretty sure he's pissed because it feels like a fucking thunderstorm in here. "Fine. Go off with the losers, frosh. I tried to help. When you drop out and end up a worthless bum on the street, remember it's your - ”

"Why the fuck does anyone let you talk?" Vantas demands over top of him. "The drivel that comes out of your mouth is literally sickening, listening to you makes me want to throw up three years’ worth of shitty college food - Gamzee are you ready? Come on, let's get out of here, the room smells of entitled asshole."

You grab your pipe, stick it in your pocket with the other stuff, and manage to stand up. Cronus is still talking, sneering at Vantas, warning you you'll never get anywhere relying on his type, you need friends like him, and his voice makes your stomach cold and shaky. Vantas jerks a thumb at the door and follows on your heels as you walk out, slams the door behind him.

In the hallway, even the loud music and voices filtering in from the party at the other end of the house are peaceful compared to being in that room. Your hands go into your pockets and your shoulders hunch as you stare at the floor.

Vantas drags a hand through his hair and lets out a breath. "Fuck," he mutters. "Come on, let's go somewhere else."

"I'm soo fuckin sorry, Kat," Roxy says as the three of you head down the hall. "I pffromised Janey I'd make sure you stay - you'd say - you sayed - wha'ever, not go near 'im. I fucked up."

"Don't worry about it," Vantas growls. "I'm fucking fine. I'm not the one who was - " he glances sideways at you and cuts himself off. "I'm fine."

"Are you gon' be okay?"

"I will be _fine_ , Lalonde, Christ, go back to the party, okay? I'm just going to have a talk with tall dark and clueless here. Oh, hey, hand this back to that pompous moron if you run into him." He gives her a room key and she grins at him.

"I dunno, Kitkat, whish moron'd that be? Therer's sooo many, to hear you talk!"

"My twin, dipshit, as you perfectly well know. Go on, get. Oh, and tell John we found him!"

"'Kay! Hey, tay' care of 'im, Karkit'n." She turns back and teeters away toward the party again. Vantas mutters something and pushes through the back door and you follow him out into the chilly night air.

"We have to talk," Vantas says shortly. "Do you - shit, do you feel safe with me, do you want to go somewhere there are other people around?"

"Wha - uh, if you want, bro?"

He stares up at you for a minute, sighs. "How do you feel, right now?"

Your mouth opens, you bite your lip. "Dunno, brother." Your voice cracks and when you blink, tears come out. "Not... not so motherfucking good."

"Ah, shit. You poor fuck, look, you uh, you want a hug?" He holds out his hands a little, offering, and when you nod he steps in and hugs you hard. You sob into the top of his head, clinging to him in the middle of the walkway. He holds you, rubbing your back long and slow, murmuring, "It's going to be okay. You're going to be okay. Honest. It fucking sucks, but you _will_ be okay." Maybe the whole thing shouldn't be as comforting as it is since you just met the guy, but he's all gruff care, earnest and concerned, and you need that so motherfucking bad right now.

After a bit the shaking dies down. You kinda feel better, so you give him a wobbly smile as you loosen your hold and step back. He don't let go, just puts his hands on your shoulders and gives you this intense look.

"Okay. That sort of suggests you feel safe with me, and we should - no. Confirm first. Do you feel safe with me?"

He's so fucking serious with his little frowny face and his big warm hands, and you have to laugh a little bit as you nod, wiping your face with the end of a sleeve. How could you not feel safe with this brother? As long as that other dude isn't around - no, you can't think about that right now.

"Okay. I think we should maybe go where you can get a little privacy. Does that sound good?"

You shrug. "Sure, bro."

He nods, takes a breath. "Okay, last thing. How much did you have to drink? And what were you smoking?"

"Just the miracle weed, bro. And I ain't got my drink on at all, shit don't mix with the pain meds, the doc was real clear."

Vantas gives you a look. "And pot does?"

"Uh, yeah, maybe? She said I could be at testing it out, anyway."

"Hm. All right, whatever, come on." He starts walking and you follow after. "So why are you on pain meds? Uh, if it's, shit, that's not even remotely an okay question to ask, what the fuck, Karkat, I'll just stick my fucking foot in my mouth and bite it off at the - "

"Nah, bro, ain't no issue. Got a bad knee, 's all. Misaligned patella, it don't cover the joint right and I up and hit it bad a couple years ago. Gotta walk with a cane sometimes."

"Shit, that really - " He breaks off and you glance at him. His eyes are narrowed. "That sick son of a bitch. He was holding your bad knee, wasn't he. Son of a _bitch_. Was he hurting you?"

Your shoulders hunch in and you shake your head. "No, bro - um. Can we, like, not talk about. That. Stuff?"

A pause before he blows out a long breath. "Okay. You don't want to talk about it, you don't have to talk about it. You don't have to do anything you don't want to, because I have a working fucking understanding of ethics. But. You might... It might be helpful to listen to what I have to say, because," his voice drops, "I know him pretty well. I know how he twists shit around in your - in people's heads, and I can tell you - well. Stuff you might want to know, is all."

You swallow, nod. "Okay, bro." The brother obviously wants to help you, and even though the other one said he did too, now you're paying attention you can feel the difference. That one was smooth and sounded so motherfucking reasonable, but he didn't give a damn about you, just about pushing- No, no, can't think about that, you'll get angry. Vantas is different because he keeps checking in with you, saying is this okay, what do you want? And he listens to what you fucking say. "So, um. Where we all headed at, this chill night?"

"Performing arts center. Won't be anyone there on Friday at this point in the term, and I figure we can hang out in that little tiny theater, the one with all the risers, and have the place to ourselves. If anyone does come in, we'll have prior claim and they'll fuck off to practice somewhere else."

"Cool, bro." Silence falls as you walk. The sidewalk turns, goes uphill, you follow it around and past the old wooden building where all the literature and media classes as well as the language courses are held. The floors in there are creaky as shit, they make weird miracle noises walking down the empty halls after dark. PAC, the performing arts center, is way cooler, though, all the dance rooms and big and little performing spaces, some with risers and platforms and shit in different configurations - all sorts of stuff as makes you feel like a little fucker dropped on a bigass new playground.

As you come in sight of the vast, rectangular-tentacled sprawl of the center, something occurs to you. "Hey, bro? You all up and got a name I could be having besides Vantas? I mean, or Kitkat?"

"God fucking dammit, do not call me Kitkat," he growls, but it don't sound too serious, so you just smile at him. "The name is Karkat. I assure you I have heard every possible joke or mangling already. Any attempt to be clever will merely ensure my wrath and simultaneous boredom."

Brother's so motherfucking funny!  You grin down at him.  "Aw, bro, wouldn't want you to get your boredom on!  Karkat, got it."

"You should be more worried about my wrath," he sniffs, playing it up, "a waifish freshman like you.  Be warned, the wrath of a junior is worthy of fear and enough trembling to register on the Richter scale."

"Right, you got it, bro," you laugh.  "I will be all up at that."  It warms you the way he's practically clowning to cheer you; he's awkward enough it clearly don't come natural and that is so motherfucking sweet, it sets the middle of you to glowing just a little.

Karkat leads the way into the building, through the corridors and down to where theaters and dance rooms mingle. You've never had occasion to be in the little theater he takes you to, and you stare around as you come in. Dark walls, ceiling, and floor surround rows of platforms stacking up back to the walls for seating, a forest of metal supports underneath. This shit is so motherfucking awesome.

Your new bro hops right up onto the lowest level and starts climbing higher. Oh. Well, if that's the plan, you guess -

He turns around, frowns down at you hesitating, and his eyes go wide before he smacks himself in the face. "Shit, your fucking knee, I didn't even think, I am such a fucking moron - I'll come down, you don't have to come up here - I'm such a shit-licking - "

"Whoa, brother, chill your motherfucking miraculous self! Ain't no trouble, most folks don't up and think on it much. Mind if we sit ourselves a little space lower?" You use your good knee to make the long step up one tier and then a second, look around for a good spot to sit your ass.

"You don't have to fucking hurt yourself," he's grumbling at you, coming down to your level, and the angry scowl on his face so totally fails to disguise the worried way he's looking at you that you just grin at him.

"Ain't no worries, bro, no pain here, the green miracles are all hanging out on me yet."

He rolls his eyes and snorts, but you're used to that sort of reaction when you talk- used to worse, come to that, so one more reason to get your liking on strong for this brother.

The two of you find a spot that pleases you both and sit on the next riser up. Karkat frowns at his lap.

"All right," he says. "I'm going to try to - to explain that manipulative bastard as best I can, and see if that helps you at all. You can tell me what happened tonight, or talk about pieces of it, or not say a damn thing, it's your choice. I just, I feel like. I fell in this fucking swamp first, and I made it out alive, and if I can't keep other people from falling in too, the least I can do is show them the goddamn map I put together and point them towards dry land again. Okay?"

"'Kay, bro. I like swamps," you add.

He gives you a look of befuddled irritation. "You like swamps," he says flatly.

"Hell yeah! They got frogs and snakes and dragonflies and all kinds of cool shit up at them, bro."

"What did those poor fucking prepositions ever do to you?" he sighs, but you kinda think he might be hiding the bare twitch of a smile.

"There's an itty bitty swamp up-campus a bit, you know that?" you say. "John and me found it and got our motherfucking explore on a few weeks in! Fucking awesome. Cane was really fucking useful over in there, too."

"Huh."

"Hey." You bite your lip. "Was - was John really all up at his concern over me? You think, maybe, he likes me?"

"Well, he referred to you as his friend, so I would fucking assume he likes you, dumbass," Karkat says. "Of course, how that fuckface makes any friends at all I have no table-flipping idea, he is annoying enough to rasp the mental-emotional skin off anyone not in a constant haze of impenetrable goodwill, drugs or alcohol. So yes, as dreadful as the news is, I'm afraid you're going to have to accept that John Derpteeth considers you a friend and is likely to act accordingly. This includes playing dumb pranks on you, demanding that you watch hideously dumb movies with him, and in general behaving like a horrible waste of breath in your near vicinity as often as possible. Or so I've deduced from personal observation."

"Whoa, hey, brother!" Staring at him, you begin to grin hopefully. "So you're all up at being his friend, too?"

"So it would fucking appear."

"Motherfucking bitchtits! So, if you're his friend, and he's onto being mine, that means you're kinda like my friend too, right?"

Karkat stares at you for a second, frowning in a way you can't quite figure out.  Then he rolls his eyes.  "Sure," he says, "why the fuck not?  What, are we in kindergarten now, you have to ask people if they're your friends?"

Somehow that don't quite hit you right, for all he said yes.  Your shoulders shrug and hunch and you look down at your feet.  "Guess so, bro," you mutter.  "Gotta ask, cuz there's folk as act all friendly like to your face but... they motherfucking ain't." Your mind's not even on what just went down tonight, you're remembering back in school, those kids that would talk to you, laugh with you if it was just you and one of them, but the minute anyone else was around it was like you didn't even exist.

"Yes, and those people are scum-sucking jerkwads," Karkat says firmly.  "But generally they just lie like cowardly snakes and say they _are_ your friends."

"Sure, bro," you tell him, looking up with a little smile.  "Sometimes, when there ain't nobody else around to hear, they might say that.  But they know when they're lying, and so do I.  So then I get my knowing on of the _sharp true nature_ of my reality, the _shape_ of it under that veil of courtesy - "  Your voice has fallen into rhythm without your meaning it to. 

" _Then I know I got a hole where my trust was livin’,_

_was the happiest soul ‘til a brother went givin’_

_me reason to believe such trust was dumb,_

_not something to give out as a rule of thumb,_

_but a thing to grieve me._

_The pain don't leave me._

_My heart had a rhythm but now it's numb_."

Words string themselves together slick and easy in your head, forming up in rhyme and beat and slipping out your mouth like you're just a convenient channel to let them into the world. The verses ain't right yet, talk around the edges of what you feel instead of saying it out straight, pull punches that should hit, but it still feels good. Somehow putting your thoughts and hurt into form and kicking it out where it can be seen and heard always soothes you, eases your mind.

" - _and the leaf don't cushion_

_when a brother keeps pushin’_

_his voice at my ears, his hands on my skin,_

_touching where another brother's hand's never been_ \- "

When you break off it's because your throat's all closed up and it's hard to talk. You laugh, sort of, with no mirth in it, and finish. " _Now I know I never should've followed him in_."

There's silence for a moment and then Karkat blows out a breath. "Fuck. You - shit, you want another hug?"

As soon as you nod he's reaching over, half turning to tug you into his arms. It helps to know someone gives a fuck, but now the feelings are all stirred up, you can't just look away and pretend they ain't there. You sniffle and swallow.

"Why'd he wanna up and do that, bro? I never, don't think I was after asking for it - "

"Of course you weren't asking - "

You're pulling away to sit more upright as you think about it, getting edgier, something hot and dark all crowding up in you. "I'd swear I had no craving, for all as I can be sure, it was fuzzy as shit up in my fucking head - "

"And you can bet he was counting on that, man - "

" - had no need for him to be on me that way, hands on skin what never _asked_ for his _motherfucking touch - !_ " Your voice gets way too loud, ringing in the quiet and you stop, try to relax, unclench your hands from fists. Breathing deep, you shove that dark feeling back in the shadows where it lives. "S-sorry, bro."

" _No_ ," Karkat says, "don't you apologize to me for that. You have a right to be fucking angry. That sick bastard took advantage of you, that's what he _does_ , and you have every reason to be pissed the fuck off!" His face is dark as he gestures sharply, stabbing a finger at you.

"But why'd he get the thought on him that I'd be down with all that kind of thing? I don't, don't remember saying nothing..."

Karkat drags his hands over his face and sighs. "Do you want to tell me what you remember happening, so I can answer the question for sure, or should I just tell you what you should know about this prick?"

"I, um. Dunno, bro."

"All right. I think I'm picking up that you'd really rather we not talk about him at all, and believe me I get it. I'd rather forget he exists entirely; thinking about that asshole is as much fun as bleeding copiously while cleaning up after an elderly cat with explosive incontinence and an upset stomach." Whoa. That's all kinds of vivid imagery as maybe you weren't looking for. "But you need to know that what happened back there was on him, not you."

Karkat gives you a sharp look, checking you're attending, and you are, you've got your listen on for definite. You just don't know how he can be sure that what he's saying is real and true. "He was touching you before I walked in."

It don't really sound like a question, but you twitch a sort of nod anyway.

"Yeah. Unless you _asked_ him to - Fuck, I _know_ you didn't ask him to touch you like that, I saw your face."

You're feeling cold again, cringing into yourself, shame and confusion and anxiety all tangled up inside. There ain't no way you wanna think about this anymore, except that you don't understand what happened and it scares you, you need to get your knowing on. What did you do? Can you stop it from happening again?

"He - " you say real soft, just as Karkat says, "It wasn't - " and you shut up fast, but he stops.

"Shit, sorry. Go ahead."

You swallow hard and say it out loud. "He s-said I was up and agreeing to it. I don't think I motherfucking did. But bro, it was all hazy back there, I got no notion to me what all happened or what I got my say on of."

"The English language weeps," Karkat mutters, and then he sighs. "Gamzee. Look, if you weren't looking for sex, it's not likely that you offered it, right?"

"Guess not?"

"I mean, the fact that he had to _tell_ you that you agreed to it is a pretty clear sign that you didn't."

That sounds all manner of backwards to you.  "Wait, how's that?"

"If he really thought you were into it and had said yes, why would he think he needed to remind you? Yeah, no. Based on what I know about how he works, I can tell you with ninety-five percent certainty that you gave him not the slightest fucking reason to believe you were interested at all. The cues he interprets as agreement to sex include breathing, being in the same room as him, and being human. Humanity very fucking likely optional."

"So, he really was all at thinking I did want it? Like, he just always thinks that?"

Karkat puts his hands over his face and you worry you've pissed him off, but he drops them again after a minute and slumps forward, leaning his elbows on his knees. "No." He sounds tired. "He only talks like it. He knows damn well not everyone's eager to hop on his diseased, pustulent dick. He just doesn't care.”

"Listen, this is what he does. He seeks out people who are...vulnerable in some way, all right? Uncertain freshmen, people who've had too much to drink, people with - various issues. He acts friendly long enough to get their guard down and then he manipulates them. He's got this way of saying shit to make you do what he wants, he knows _exactly_ what to say to make you stop thinking rationally so he can push you around better." Karkat's voice has gone low, way quieter than the gruff, forceful way he's been talking ‘til now. "He pushes your boundaries all the time, until it seems normal, and every time you protest he explains why you're overreacting and wrong and everything he's doing is reasonable and okay."

"Holy shit," you say softly. It's like the brother was there, watching the whole scene, how close he's describing it. But the way he says it - You ain't the top of your classes, but you're no kind of idiot, either, no matter what folks think when they see your happy smoked-up smile. Karkat's not just talking about you.

"And he doesn't stop." You look at him and the dark eyes are distant, staring across the room. "The fucker pushes you into sex, and into trying things you didn't want to do, and then those things become the norm, and the whole time he's spewing this _shit_...Backhanded compliments, _'friendly'_ encouragement that's so fucking insulting it's unbelievable. He tells you you're worthless, and you end up believing him. And the worst part, the most unbearable bit to top off this shitpile is that anytime you're around people who haven't seen through his crap yet, which is still half this fucking campus, he's - he keeps..." Suddenly Karkat shakes his head hard, looks up at you and away again. "Fuck it, not important," he says, rough and louder, like raising his voice can make you forget what he's said.

He's been all motherfucking kindness to you, helping you get your head around what happened and why, and you got a strong feeling slipping on over you that he didn't mean to say everything as he did just say. Brother looks sort of shaken under that scowl he never lets off his face, and you get this ache right in the center of you, seeing it. "No?" you say. "You sure, bro? Cuz you had a motherfucking solemnity up on you telling the story. Seems like you could be to using a friendly ear as much as me."

"I'm supposed to be helping you deal with this asslord's crap, not whining about my own problems from last fucking year," he growls. Part of you wants to flinch, cuz he's a junior and he's been good to you, and you do not want to piss off an upperclassman and the guy as knows what happened tonight but by some miracle is still willing to talk to you.

Instead of pulling back, you raise a placating hand. "You don't gotta say nothing as don't take you well to say. Just, bro, you been the very purest of compassion and benevolence with me, and helpful as all fuck it is to hear it ain't just me. Though I'm sore grieved to know such a cruelty could take place, such a kindhearted brother treated so motherfucking poor."

He rolls his eyes and looks a mite uncomfortable. "I'm not some kind of fucking saint," he grumbles. "I'm pretty much a dickhead, anyone will tell you. Karkat Vantas, foul temper, fouler mouth. It's probably a miracle I haven't stuck my foot in my mouth so far I'm kneeling on my own skull and driven you away at a run. Most people don't think I should be allowed to talk to frosh."

You laugh. "Nah, bro, you got miracles in you for sure, but that ain't one. All these words what you've said at me, they hold me gentle, keep me comfort. Good to know I got someone I can trust."

That gets to him, somehow. His eyes widen on yours, he looks away and bites his lip. "You. Probably shouldn't be so quick to trust people, man. I mean. You're kind of vulnerable right now and only a real bastard would be a dick to you, but mostly I'm. Not really a nice guy."

"Okay, bro." In truest honesty, you're not worried. It's been a rigorous sort of evening and you already saw this brother kicking up the wickedest angry ruckus at his ex what makes him near crazed with word-darts and malice; you're pretty sure you've seen him at his worst. If you ever do something to inspire that fervency of vitriol, well, you guess you'll have earned your just desserts.

His eyes narrow at you. "Remember what I said about the wrath of a junior."

"You got it, my fine brother, righteous fear and trembling all up on this motherfucker."

He's trying to look annoyed, but his lips are pressed thin to hide a smile. "You are a snarky asshole concealed under a spacey grin and a fuckload of hair."

"Aw, no, that's my big bro and my dad, they got the fuckload of hair. They're all at having the witty motherfucking banter, too. But I got the grin, damn right." You show him your grin and he softens enough to sort of smirk back. Good enough.

The two of you sit quiet for a moment as he fidgets with the cuff of his sleeve.

"Anything you wanna say, you can tell it at me, bro," you say.

"You really think it's helpful to have to listen to someone else bitch about - I mean, you didn't even want to talk about him at first."

"Sure, but it's being a different thing entire, hearing as what happened with you. Gives a brother insight, you know? So's he can get on his perspective."

Karkat blows out a long breath and then nods once, short and jerky. "All right. All right. I have...issues with myself. I guess it was more obvious my first year, I was practically writing 'I hate my fucking guts' on the walls, which is not normally super-attractive except, apparently, to utter douchebags. He got me twisted around his goddamned fingers within a few weeks and I stayed with him for almost a year. I was a total fucking moron, but he treated me like shit and that's about what I thought I deserved, so it was perfect."

He chews on his lip for a moment.  "Probably the only reason I broke up with him at all is Dad.  I let something slip over winter break, I hadn't told him anything about Ampora because I knew he wouldn't like it, but I was yelling and I said something dumb.  He gets really intense, Dad does, and he's so fucking _earnest._ It's...really hard not to talk to him when he's focused on you like that." He lowers his head, mouth twisting. "Naturally I ended up telling him way more than I should have, and.  He didn't like it at all."  His voice drops.  "He actually cried. I felt like such a piece of shit. He made me promise to leave the scumball and never let anyone treat me that way again. So. I did."

Karkat sits up again and scrubs both hands through his hair. He won't meet your eyes, but at least he's talking to you. "And he still, the shithead still makes me fucking _lose_ it, anytime we're in the same place and other people are around, he's so - He drops these fucking barbs no one else catches, because they don't have the context, makes me look like a shrieking lunatic; all he has to do is say a few words and I just start screaming at him - " He breaks off and presses his hands against his face. " _Aaargh_ , he's like a toxic waste spill, he should come with the same goddamned hazard warnings."

"Sounds like, my brother," you have to agree. You kind of wanna change the subject to something happy, like how his dad helped him and how awesome dads are, or really just about anything except the thing you need to ask. You don't. Dads are awesome, and so is yours even though he's really your uncle and not your dad. He says you gotta stop avoiding the hard things all the time, cuz it'll get you in a shitload more trouble than facing them head on. You take a careful breath in and out, swallow to press down the squirmy feeling in your stomach, like you got a tangle of snakes in there all getting their twitch and wriggle on hard. "So." Another breath. "So that thing he does, with the touching over skin as never asked for such a thing to be, that's, he gets that on a lot with people? Don't matter if they asked or no?"

"Yeah, he doesn't give a fuck if they're interested or not, just if they're cowed enough or -whatever, if they're not likely to report it, he goes for it."

"And - with you too?" It doesn't seem like a thing you should ask, especially as earlier he was already at saying it was so. Well. Implying it, anyway. Could be you weren't supposed to get your notice on of that. You just... need to know. This feeling you've got over it, is it something shared, or alone just to you?

It's probably the sort of question most people wouldn't have their amusement on over, so he takes you by surprise when he laughs, sharp and mirthless. "I was with him for fucking months, the hell do you think?" Then he looks at you, blinks, looks away. "Yeah," he says more quietly. "Me too."

"Shit, bro," you sigh. Salve to your motherfucking soul it is to have company, someone who knows where all you're at, but you've got your dismay on that it means this fine brother has all that suffering up in him. More than you for sure. For you, hands went on things as you didn't want touched for ten minutes, maybe. (Well, you never claim a solid notion of time when you've got your smoky miracles in you, but probably it weren't long.) From what your bro here's said, he had worse for considerable longer. "That fucking _sucks_."

He sort of snorts, and there's a good bit more amusement in it than that angry laugh had. "Yeah, it pretty much does, genius, well fucking noted."

You manage a half grin and bump him with your shoulder. He bumps you back and it lifts your heart something sweet, shoving back and forth all friendly like. The grin don't last, though, for all you want it to; you got questions still need answering.

"So, certain sure I didn't ask for it none?"

"One hundred and fifty percent fucking positive," he says firmly. "And you know what? Even if you had agreed to it to start with, you sure as fuck weren't happy about it by the end, and there is no way he didn't know that, which means the blame is still squarely on his fucking head. Consent once given can still be withdrawn, and if he doesn't stop at that point - "

"Wait, bro, I - " Your gut's going tight and weird again. "I thought you said as I didn't?"

He blinks, looks at you and his face falls. One hand comes up to your shoulder and rests on it as he sighs. "Shit, I should know better than to run my fucking mouth off on hypotheticals when you're already confused and shit. I suck ass at being comforting. I _did_ say that, Gamzee, and I meant it. We don't know for sure what you said, but I'm pretty damn sure you didn't give any kind of consent. I was just trying to explain that even if you - No, you know what, I'm only confusing you and I need to shut the fuck up. I'll explain to you about the right to withdraw consent and ongoing negotiation of boundaries and all that stuff later if you want. Okay? You all right?"

"Mm. Yeah, I guess." It feels weird every time you think someone's saying you agreed to it, because it's like, if you ask for it and then you get it, you got no right to complain, that's what everyone says. But it sounds like he's saying that ain't so, which is confusing, though you think it'd be a good thing if it's right. Anyway, if you didn't get your agreement on after all, that's the thing what matters and you're all good.

Except, now what? "So what do we do?" you ask him.

"Do?" His scowl is puzzled.

"All what you've been telling, the wickedness and cruelty of a motherfucker to touch on folk as ain't looking for it - ain't a thing as should stand, is it, bro? You already get your tell on at somebody as should know? That a thing I should try at?"

Karkat's expression twists and goes dark. "I wouldn't fucking recommend it. I tried it, yeah. It was a humiliating fucking mess and it got me nothing but shit. For one, it's our word against his, and he is a back-stabbing lying piece of shit but he's a lot better charming authority figures than I am. For another..." He sighs and his shoulders slump. "I was in a relationship with him. Nobody gives a fuck how a college boy fucked over his _boyfriend_ ," the word is bitter with venom, "unless it left me physically injured and I got fucking pictures. You were high and alone in the room with him. Even if you keep the weed out of the story, you can bet he won't. There's also who his father is, I have no idea if that actually matters, but he sure as fuck thinks so, the arrogant, grandiose, self-satisfied prick - "

"Who's that?"

He rolls his eyes. "Oranos fucking Ampora, lead singer of Orphaner."

"Oh." Huh. Band and singer ain't quite household names, but big enough. Guy's probably got money, which is... maybe not good?

"But then there's the fact we're both guys. That kind of seals it, as far as telling people having any effect goes. If one of us was a chick we might have a chance, but as it is..."

You feel dizzy and weird, almost like when you were leaving that room with Roxy and your bro here. It feels like the world is wheeling up over your head, all thinking of falling in on you. "Wait," you say, and your voice sounds all hazy and slow. "Wait, so, bro. Gospel truth, there ain't no one gonna care what all happened on me tonight? Ain't no one to see at it not happening again to some poor brother or sister? They - they don't - fucking _care?_ "

His hands are on your shoulders as your voice breaks and he looks all kinds of distressed when you blink the blur in your eyes away. "No - Gamzee, it's not that no one cares, that's not it, okay, goddammit don't cry, please don't cry, I can't take it - _I_ care, okay? And the school, it's not that no one cares, it's that - no, fuck it, I'm not defending their asinine shit. But there _are_ people who care, okay? I mean, there's this counselor lady who's really nice, she fucking cares, she was on my side, it's just there wasn't much she could do as far as, you know, disciplinary action or anything. You can talk to her, okay? Please don't - fuck it," he mutters, and pulls you into his arms again.

Clinging to him is nice, he's solid and warm and you feel even skinnier next to him, but also like you're safe, maybe. Your face dips to hide against the top of his shoulder and you take deep breaths and swallow and slowly you settle back down again.

"Wicked harsh," you say, voice rough with pushing the tears away, "that they got no plans to hear at what we need and act over it. I thought as what that all held importance in their eyes, keeping students from harm and all."

"Yeah. Problem is, he's a student too. Innocent until proven a sick fucking bastard. The real problem is that our entire model of consent is fucked up to begin with. A lot of people don't even understand that you can change your fucking _mind_ about sex at any point and have that be okay. And the goddamn gender binary doesn't exactly help us here, the construct of masculinity where it's accepted as fact that all men are always looking for sex, so if you happen to get some when you didn't ask for it, it's seen as a stroke of fucking luck and not - "

The words drum against your ears, a scary noise shoving at you. A second ago the brother was all kindness and comfort and now he ain't even really talking to you at all, arms lax around you as he growls about theoretical shit that don't motherfucking matter to you, while the bitterness and frustration in his voice winds you tighter and tighter until suddenly you're sobbing against him, shaking.

"Shit! Oh _fuck_ , I did it again, I'm as bad as Kankri, such a fucking _moron_ \- Gamzee, it's okay, calm down, I'm sorry, I know it sucks, I know - " His hand is stroking your back, slow and soothing, and he's paying attention again. Awkward as he sounds, the concern in his voice is so sweet to you the relief makes you sag against him, crying hard and quiet. This time he don't tell you to hush up, and you cry yourself out.

It feels good. Feels like some of the weight's off your heart when you get calm at last, holding on to him. He sighs deep and slow, strokes over your shoulder blades.

"You all right?"

You start a little and pull back from him like he probably wants by now, straighten up as he lets go, and wipe your face on your sleeve. Motherfuck, your nose is running and you've got no tissues or nothing. Your other sleeve has to fill in. "Y-yeah, thanks, bro. Um. Sorry."

"Don't fucking apologize, you haven't done anything wrong."

"Didn't mean to cry all over a brother. Again."

In your peripheral vision you can see he's stopped and is staring at you, confused. "For fuck's sake, it's okay. Christ, if anyone has a reason, you do. You don't buy into that macho bullshit about men not crying, do you?"

Damply, you laugh a little. "Nah, bro, just, lot of folk get all bent out of shape about it. Got so much shit for it back in school... Didn't wanna be bothering you none."

"Well, I don't give a fuck. I, uh, may have been known to cry too easily myself at times. I'm not about to, um, when I told you not to cry before, I didn't mean because, like, I thought you were weak or some stupid shit. I meant, um. People crying is upsetting. To me."

Aw, motherfuck, this brother is all up and full of hidden miracle sweetness as makes you wanna hug the stuffing out of him. He covers it real careful under that scowl and snarl, but you've seen below it now, ain't no way he can hide from you. You grin at him, lean over to wrap your arms around him as he sort of sighs at you all resigned like, and then you squeeze him tight.

He makes a croaky, squeaky noise and gasps for breath, and after a second you let him loose again, huffing at you. "The fuck was that for?" he grumbles, wriggling his shoulders.

"Just thanks for being all kinds of awesome, bro."

He snorts. "Good thing you don't know me that well."

Smiling, you just look at him a minute, let him see you contemplating it. "Dunno," you say. "Thinking after tonight I might have on my knowledge of all your nature better than you're being to guess."

Your instincts are right; it makes him uncomfortable. He rolls his eyes and looks away, mutters, "Fuck, I hope not."

It makes you wince a little inside, like he don't want you to get your closeness on at him, but you think on the way he's treated you and let it warm you into your courage. "Why's that, bro?" you say. "When your nature's the very motherfucking soul of kindness? Picked a brother up in misery, brought him out of that place of sorrow for no cause but sweet care and gentleness."

"It was not - " He pauses, glaring at you.  "I did it for John, all right?  It's not because I'm like, some kind of paragon of altruism, dribbling sweetness and virtue from every orifice, you need to stop thinking that idiocy, stat. I just realized what the worst outcome of this search would be, so I asked my pigheaded, clueless, blowhard twin if he'd seen you and lo and _fucking_ behold, he admitted he'd left you alone in there. After that I _had_ to come get you out. Stop making it sound like I rescue orphans from war zones or something."

Brother don't seem to get his realization on of how he's contradicting himself or what all he's at saying.  "May not be an orphan," you say steadily, and stop to think about that. No, your born dad's still around, even if you ain't gonna ever see him again.  "But you denying you saved me, bro?"  You try not to think about what you're saying, what could've happened if he hadn't. "You telling at me honest it wouldn't have gotten worlds worse before he was done?"

He goes quiet a minute.  Then a breath hisses out of him and he says, "I should have gotten there sooner.  Goddammit, I just - You looked so lost when I opened the door. Why the fuck couldn't I have showed up before he - "

"Hey!" you say, maybe a little louder than you meant, because him saying that just brings it back to you stronger and you are getting mighty motherfucking tired of this cold shaky feeling, he don't need to say no more, thanks.  Karkat stops dead and blinks at you. "That ain't no kind of answer to my fucking question."

He looks down, frowning at his shoes. "Yeah," he says reluctantly. "Probably."

"And just for to save a brother you ain't had even met yet. Braving the dark and heinous den of that same mistrustworthy motherfucker who hurt you grievous your own self, meanwhile. Bro, that is all ways a mystery of courage and miraculous caring, and no naysaying of yours speaks at truth on it."

"I'm not that - "

"Yeah, you are," you knock it back to him. "Don't matter if you did it for your bro and not for me, you did me a kindness.  And...and a bigger one here after, listening and all talking it over with a brother," you add in a smaller voice.

"Oh, right, like I'm just going to leave you alone after a fucking night like this!" he scoffs at you.

You look down and shrug. The knees of these pants are wearing threadbare, and you're gonna get your sorrow on when they give out entire, you love these sweetass pants, though they went and faded long since from rich purple to grey-violet. "Plenty folk would," you tell your knees. Got your lesson on of that right early, you were three years old when your born dad walked out and left you on your own.

"Yeah, well, fuck them. I know about dealing with shit like this, and I'm not just going to get you out and then drop you on your own, like 'okay, you have fun with the nightmares now!' Fuck, I hope you don't have nightmares. Maybe you won't; it was only once, and it didn't look like he - Nevermind."

"Thanks, bro," you say real soft.

He shrugs and shifts and glowers. "Sure, whatever, it's fine. Look, we haven't got classes together or anything, but if we're friends with the same people we'll probably be hanging out at some point anyway. If, you know, you're interested. And even if you're not, if you ever - anytime you need to talk to someone about this fucking mess, I'm available. Anytime I'm not in class."

"Aw, shit, bro, that'd be - fuck yeah I'm interested!" Is he serious? Is a junior actually up and offering to get his friendship on with you? Holy fuck. Your smile at him is uncertain but hopeful, and the warmth that sets up in you pushes back the cold again.

He twitches his mouth like he might smile but gotta work his way up to it. It's so motherfucking cute you gotta reach out and hug him again, laughing, and he swears, sounding amused, and pats you on the back. It feels so good to be close to someone who gives a shit that you can't quite feel your way to letting the brother go just yet.

Though he don't try to push you away, abruptly he says, "Just for the record, I don't actually do this."

You freeze a second, then pull away, feeling low and fucking horrible to push yourself on a brother who ain't pleased at it. "Shit, sorry, bro - "

"No, not the fucking hug, idiot," he sighs and bumps his shoulder against you, comforting. "The befriending thing. I'm shit at it. I just feel like, you didn't deserve this. Not like I did. So like, I can help make it up to you by being a fucking decent human being."

"I, uh." You're...not entirely sure how he's all at meaning that. He don't actually want you for a friend, just doing it as like he's duty-bound? Or he wouldn't actually give you a moment's time as a normal thing, but he's got that guilty pity up in him making him get to treating you this nice? Awash in confusion, you fix on one thing what has its clarity for you. "Bro, if I had no desserts on in that mirthless sickening mess, no more did you be at having."

"I got myself into it," he says, shortly. "I practically invited him to treat me that way, I made no fucking attempt to get myself out of it when it got bad, and I deserved every fucking humiliation I got."

His words are a chill in your gut, and you lean in and put an arm around his shoulders, hoping the warmth will come back and thaw it again. "Naw, bro, mistakes ain't worthy of all that motherfucking cruelty."

He half-shrugs. "Whatever, the point is, you're not like me and you didn't deserve that. You're actually sort of a nice guy.  It'd be like throwing a baby sparrow to a cat."

"You don't gotta make anything up at me, though," you tell him.  The arm over his shoulders ain't warming you any, and the conversation don't got its help on. You're glad he's at harboring the belief you're a cool kinda brother, but it ain't much help if he won't be real with you.

"Yeah, sure, but I can, so why not?" he says.

Taking your arm back to wrap it over your ribs, you hunch in on yourself.  "Don't," you sigh.  "Don't up and offer at me friendship if it's only for cause of that pity of me you got. It don't last."

"Oh for fuck's sake," he growls.  "I'm not fucking offering to be friends because I feel sorry for you, dumbass! I mean, I guess maybe it sounded that way because I'm an inarticulate moron, but that's not it."

"No? What's it after being, then?"

Karkat groans in frustration and rakes a hand through his hair. "Christ, Gamzee, if you think I'm such a great guy, why do I need a fucking reason, huh? I am _shit_ at being nice to people, okay? But I can _try_. You seem like you could use someone around who knows a thing or two about this shit, so I'll try to be around, this is not that fucking hard to understand."

Slowly, you relax again. "S-sorry, bro," you give him a weak smile. "I'm all manner of off my motherfucking stride tonight."

He shrugs at you. "I get it. Don't worry about it, just try to relax, okay?"

After a minute you hear your own voice say, "So sick of not having real friends, bro, you can't get your knowing on. He - he said I had to - do what people wanted, or they wouldn't wanna up and be friendly with me, but he weren't being real about it, so how's a brother even meant to work that, I don't fucking know."

"Thank fuck you understand that that's bullshit. He has this seriously weird ability to guess what you want or fear, it is fucking creepy and I don't know how such a self-involved dickhead can be so intuitive in this one nasty way, but he uses it against you and it's all fucking lies, okay? He's a manipulative lying shithead. You don't have to ever do that sort of shit if you're not into it, and anyone who tries to make you isn't worth your goddamn time."

"Yeah, bro, but I don't know what I'm all after doing, here. If that ain't how, what is?"

Karkat waves a hand in the air, kind of flailing. "I don't fucking know, do I sound like a bastion of good advice on making friends? Follow John around, he seems to have a fucking clue, although in his case the clue is 'be completely oblivious to anyone possibly not wanting to be your friend and eventually they give in anyway'. Oh and also, 'be hopelessly optimistic and weirdly adorable', that seems to work well for him. Hell, he's been here less than a term and half the school is all over him. Dipshit."

He looks over at you, head tilted. "Actually, I don't think you're as bad off as you think. There's John, Roxy was looking for you too, so she likes you. They're both pretty popular, so if you hang out with them, you'll interact with all their friends and probably be accepted by them. Fuck, this sounds like high school, with the popular kids and the in-groups. Ignore that. Look, you're probably fine, just relax and don't worry about it, okay?"

"You think folk will up and like me, for true, bro?"

"Of fucking course they will, why not?"

Since that's unanswerable due to way too many reasons to name, you shrug at him.

"They will," he says, and shrugs uncomfortably. "I mean, I like you fine, so everybody else probably will - " A little trill interrupts him. He works a phone out of his pocket and checks the screen. "Holy shit, it's almost midnight. Hey, I'm supposed to meet my roommate in the Commons to screen Rocky Horror in about fifteen minutes, so I should get over there."

"Oh. Yeah, all right, bro." It wasn't like you could really expect the brother to just hang here and get his chat on with you all night. Nodding, you give him an agreeable smile. "Guess I'll, like, see you around sometime."

"Yeah." He looks at you, hesitates. His eyes are the warm, ruddy color of cider. "Hey. You, uh, wanna come with? I mean, it's an open screening, we're hoping for a bunch of people to get a good chorus for the call-backs, but the movie's kind of, uh, have you seen it?"

Your breath does a hopeful little catch in your chest. Is he serious? It would be pretty great to not be alone just yet, but you don't want to piss anybody off, either. "Can't get my recall on of it, bro, but I'll be all at joining in if that's good with you?"

"Hm. Welp, what the fuck is being an upperclassman for if you don't get to corrupt some frosh, I guess. Come on, let's go, Sollux will bitch if I'm late."

Getting up, you're almost bouncing, despite your knees. He said he likes you and he offered to be your friend and you're all at going to watch a movie with a bunch of upperclassmen! As you follow the brother off the risers and out of the room, you've got that feeling back that you had at the start of the night, like not only are things okay right now, but you might just have it better than you thought was possible. Smiling at your feet, you step up to walk beside your good bro and get him to tell you about this bitchtits movie.

 

 

(Two days later a campus-wide email notice is sent out from a hacked administrative address. It says: "Iin the interest of public safety, all students and staff on campus should be aware that senior Cronus Ampora is verbally and sexually abusive. He has sexually assaulted at least two students and very likely more who have not yet come forward. Men as well as women are in danger around him, so be on high alert in his vicinity. If you have been assaulted or troubled by him in any way, please speak to Ms. Maureen Halseth the counselor; the more evidence amassed against him, the better."

The administration calls it libel, but no one can trace the hacker who sent the message. You have your suspicions, given the way Sollux keeps giving Karkat that smug look, but you don't ask, because when you talk to the nice counselor lady and she gets her official question on, you like being able to tell her in all gospel truth and sincerity that you do not know who sent out that motherfucking miracle message.

After other students start coming forward, telling their own stories about Cronus run-ins, the administration stops bitching quite so loud, and by the end of term Cronus is suspended.

You get your relax on, and hang with your giant kickass gang of friends.)

**Author's Note:**

> It turns out I reeeaaally like writing in Makara-voice.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Collegiate Swamp Cartography by LaughingStones [Podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4242999) by [Rhea314 (Rhea)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhea/pseuds/Rhea314)




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